


Needs Must

by Knot A Klue (nanashi_tomo)



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-09-23
Updated: 2011-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:37:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanashi_tomo/pseuds/Knot%20A%20Klue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a wry twist of lips, Raven motioned with her head to the centrifuge that was merrily spinning away; untouched and unplugged.</p><p>“Shit!” Erik jumped up, scattering papers, pens clattering to the tile floor. “Shit. Fuck. Shitshitshitshit!” He batted uselessly at the furiously spinning machine. “Stop.” He told it firmly, pointing at the whirring test tubes like it was all one big errant puppy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Meme Fill: Holocaust survivor!Charles is an unremittingly charming, slightly deranged badass with a revenge agenda and the ability to turn people's brains into mashed potatoes without so much as laying a finger on them.
> 
> Professor of genetics!Erik is a scientist of high moral character, who spends his lunches worrying that he might accidentally cause the cutlery to stand up and do the conga, thus revealing that he has powers he really, really doesn't think he can control if they ever manifest in full.
> 
> One fine day, Professor Lensherr meets Charles Xavier and teaches him that turning people's brains into mashed potatoes is not a very nice thing to do.
> 
> (Take this where you will, but I'm hankering for some dark, morally bankrupt Charles here.)

It was bloody fucking hot in Argentina.

This of course was in no way attributed to the fact that he was in a shirt, vest, and sport jacket. None at all.

As Charles looked down the little hill at the mountain side cantina, his smile turned self-deprecating. Shaw was not there. Two hundred meters away, up on a hill, and he already knew he’d flown across the Atlantic for nothing.

Looks like he was going to have to go back to Switzerland and kill a mis-informant.

But ah, well, needs must.

Instead of turning and heading back the way he’d come, Charles continued to gaze down the hill, head tilting slowly in contemplation, and smile morphing into more of a perverted leer. But then, why waste the plane ticket here to just go back empty handed?

The walk to the front of the cantina was made easy by a little gravel path cut into the crest of the hill, and his shoes crunched underneath him while he perused the minds inside; one line officer tending the bar, one more bureaucratic Colonel, and…

Ah!

Charles smiled, lowering his hand from his temple, and shoving it back in his pocket to play with the few coins he had there. An SS officer was there too, sitting at ease drinking beer.

His step had a little bounce in it as he turned the warm brass of the door handle. It was little cooler inside, so Charles made use of the hat stand by the entrance; his sport coat sliding into his hand with a practiced roll of his shoulders. Hanging it, he walked to the bar, popping the buttons on his cuffs and rolling up the sleeves to his elbows.

With a friendly enough greeting to the men seated at one of the few tables this establishment sported, he requested a beer from the bartender. His Spanish was a little fumbled, only having just purloined the language from a very empty headed stewardess on the flight down, and not actually having spoken it before himself.

The glass was set before him congenially enough, and with decent amount of head on it to make it obvious that, had even he not been watching the pour, this beer was on tap. The flavor was thick and settled on the back of his tongue, and Charles instantly remembered why he detested drinking the stuff. But it had the sweet undertone that only German beers seem to get.

“Deutches bier?” Now his German, Charles was much better with that.

“Ya, ist Bittburger, gut keine?” The overweight blond at the table stated with a leer.

Charles grinned more to himself then the other patrons, showing teeth, wide and feral, “Das besta.”

Charles slid from the stool,  and in the few short steps to a chair, let his hips sway. His smile ratcheted up a notch as he watched the SS officer, a blond slightly piggish looking fellow watch each beat of the movement. : _Oh you never told anyone did you, mein kopf_?: Charles spoke whispering words into the mind of the SS officer, _:Of course not, not unless you wanted to be tossed into those camps as well, despite your coloring.:_

Almost invisible blond eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as the man’s beady little eyes flicked back and forth around the room, desperately searching for the source of the voice in his head.

“What brings you fine men to Argentina?” he said aloud, with a disarming harmless grin. He chuckled at their responses, a pig farmer and a tailor.

 _:Quite useless,:_ Charles thought at the mustached colonel, _:being a tailor out in these rural hills.:_ Turning his head, he lay on the boyish charm for the blond, while continuing to bate the brunette, _:Couldn’t think of better cover, colonel?:_

Shifting back into the chair, Charles crossed his ankle over the other knee, seemingly perfectly at ease. His jovial face slowly turned grim, smile twisting at the corners and eyes pinching. “I had family in Dusseldof.”

The colonel, politely enough, enquired after their names; lifting his glass and taking another drink, Charles locked eyes with both men in turn, _:419.  Or at least that was all that was left of their names when-:_ And he merrily reached out clinking glasses with the SS Major _:Pig Farmers,:_ and again clipped glasses with the colonel, _:and tailors were through with them.:_ Both men blinked in confusion, not quite sure if the voice they heard in their head was real or not.

With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his left forearm exposed, it was a minor thing to rotate his wrist a little and let the faded blue ink air to the room. The numbers 2141979 stood out sharply in a neat little row on his inner arm.

Confused and scared, the Major went for the knife at his belt. Charles closed his eyes, unconcerned, allowing the blond to pull his blade. Even going so far as to let him brandish it forward a bit before freezing him in his tracks.

“Why, thank you.” Charles took the knife, normal vaguely British accent back in place. It was one of the old propaganda pieces, with ‘Blut und Ehre’ engraved in excessively gothic calligraphy on the blade.

The bartender, seeing the odd immobilization of the Major, made move to help, and ran around the bar brandishing a frankly quite antiquated piece of artillery.

In his left he kept the Nazi’s knife, having taken an odd liking to it, while his right pressed to his temple, silencing the soldiers demands of “Let him go you freak!” And really how nice was that?

The bartender then stood up straighter, an odd parody of Charles own mix of proper poise and hunting slink, before grinning big and wide, and just in the same time with Charles own Cheshire smile. The colonels’ eyes flicked back and forth, useless queries and commands being belted forth on deaf ears. Eerie smiles still in place both Charles and the German officer said in unison, “Guten Tag, Herr. Oberst.”

The soldier then pulled the trigger, shooting the colonel in the head.

With a pleased sigh Charles looked over to the unseeing eyes of the soldier, before saying in a most benign way. “Ich danke lhnen, dass alle werden.”

The man saluted most smartly before putting the still slightly steaming barrel in his mouth and pulling the trigger once again.

There was a bare flicker of a wince from Charles as the man fell to the hardwood floor. Lowering his hand from his temple Charles reached out for his glass again and released the Major who remained motionless in frightened awe of what he’d just witnessed.

The tone was so hushed and hoarse that it might be missed, but thin bloodless lips whispered in awe, “Was Sie werden?”

Swallowing the mouthful of amber liquid, Charles raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise, “Why I am merely a discarded pet.” Setting down the glass again he pressed fingers to his forehead, twirling the knife in idle boredom.

The brow of the SS officer crinkled almost immediately, and he began to whine high and pained. A slight trickle of blood was falling out of both ears as he pressed a hand to his forehead in a vain attempt to alleviate the pressure.

“Just looking for my master.” Charles focused a little more, and blood fell like rain from his nose and tear ducts. The crimson liquid had just started to dribble out of the corner of his mouth when the Major began screaming. Momentarily discarding the knife, Charles reached for what was left of his beer, leaning back with a pinched look of disgust as blood and spittle started flying.

He pulled everything from the Major’s mind; name, life, every embarrassing moment, and hard won victory. Every person he sent to a death camp with a single word and no feeling. And Hans Angebot had little to no feelings of remorse for any Jew, gypsy, homosexual, Russian or anyone he had a hand in putting into those camps. A true believer. Charles was doing Europe a service really, ridding them of one more trial to pay for.

Hans started seizing then, and Charles watched in morbid amusement as he fell over onto the table, twitching, before going still. Blood still leaked out of every orifice as Charles leaned forward again, and reclaimed his new knife.

Finishing his beer with a slightly disgusted sound, Charles digested everything he’d pulled from Hans the SS officer’s mind. Seems the man had just recently received a nice letter from Schmidt, post marked…

“Miami.” Charles smiled again as he watched the blood pool on the polished wood tabletop. Well it seemed this trip hadn’t been a waste after all, and he’d always wanted to see the states.


	2. Chapter 2

The laboratory hall was all but deserted, sound echoing off the tiled walls of the long rectangular space. Tables bisected the room, littered with Bunsen burners, beakers, and all manner of discovery equipment.  At the end of one of the tables sat a solitary man, tall and resolutely focused, scribbling on a notepad. A younger blond woman petered around the lab putting different chemicals and supplies away.

Erik’s finger tapped an idle staccato on the table top as he quickly jotted down notes on the yellow pad at hand, quite absorbed in what he was doing.

“Erik.” Raven’s quiet voice broke the silence in the room.

He didn’t even spare his lab assistant a glance, just answered her with a very absent minded, “Hmm?”

“You’re doing it again.”

Reaching a point that he could easily stop, Erik looked up at his only companion through most of his lifetime. Raven almost looked too young to be the undergrad lab assistant she was posing as, with her long blonde curls and round face. But it was either blonde or blue, or so was the ultimatum she’d laid down, so Erik took what he could.

With a wry twist of lips, Raven motioned with her head to the centrifuge that was merrily spinning away; untouched and unplugged.

“Shit!” Erik jumped up, scattering papers, pens clattering to the tile floor. “Shit. Fuck. Shitshitshitshit!” He batted uselessly at the furiously spinning machine. “Stop.” He told it firmly, pointing at the whirring test tubes like it was all one big errant puppy.

The centrifuge just whirled faster.

“You have to calm down,” Raven said. Not even attempting to stop the machine, knowing that it was pointless to try when Erik was this frazzled.  But she did eye the pens that were agitatedly bobbing in midair with some apprehension. She thought it best not to bring attention to those at the moment though.

“I know.” Erik said through gritted teeth, and he fisted both hands in his hair struggling to find some calm.

Raven waited, watching the centrifuge slow and the pens cease bobbing and fall to the floor with a clatter. She looked at her oldest friend, brother even, and said what they were both thinking, “You need to start practicing again, to refine your control.”

Erik, predictably, blew up. “I do practice. I practice repression!” He stalked into his office, pens rattling on the ground as he strode past, but didn’t start levitating.

Raven gave him a mark for that much control, but he was not going to get away that easy.  She had to jog to keep up with him, her little pump heels clacking on the tile floor. “Erik.” She called to his retreating back.

He shut the door to his office in her face, but didn’t lock it. Raven had never been deterred by a little wood, and she followed him in, closing the door again behind her softly.

The room was dim in the late afternoon light, the wooden shutters drawing slanted lines across the hardwood. There were books and paper on every available surface, including piled on the floor, and Raven wove her way to the back corner by the window were Erik sat, head in his hands.

“Not now Raven, please.”

 _Always later_ , she thought to herself as she looked down at him, _how can you be so open and understanding with my abilities and so critical of your own?_

With the only chair occupied, Raven chose to stand and just wait him out. It only took a moment before he was looking up at her through long thin fingers. “Your current regimen needs tweaking.” She responded to his earlier deflection at her demand to practice. And she looked over pointedly at the aluminum cord tassel from the nearby blind as it strained towards him like being pulled to a magnet. “Obviously.”

Erik’s eyes followed her glance and he buried his face back into his hands with a disgusted growl.

“Erik this isn’t working.” Raven said, getting impatient with him. Didn’t he see that? The repression that had held him though the awkward teens wasn’t enough anymore, his abilities were getting stronger, and control was the only thing that would help.

“I can feel the iron in your blood. Did you know that?”

Erik’s voice was hushed and low, raw. And Raven realized, with epiphany like shock, what the real problem was. Erik was afraid of what he could do.  She didn’t quite know when this had started. It hadn’t been when he was a child, he’d been annoyed, embarrassed, yes. But never afraid.  Something had changed, and that was probably when the control he’d learned while growing up had started to fail.

“You stopped scaring me with what you could do a long time ago Erik.” Raven said just as softly, “And besides, you can only feel it right? Or can you do anything with it?”

He looked up at her, shocked, bemused, but _listening_ , “No.”

“You just know it’s there?” She confirmed.

“Yes.” Erik blinked up at her, waiting for the point with his customary impatience.

“So, you’re just like a big human shaped metal detector.” She saw the corner of his mouth flick up in a fleeting grin and ran with brief good humor.  “Hey! Can we go out to Willard’s Park? There was a huge party out there last night, the one for the graduates. You know; the one you should have gone to? I bet there is tons of stuff out there, coins, keys, oh! Jewelry!” She got a knowing eyebrow raise and a chuckle for that, “Come on, you can even make little beeping noises when you get close to something.”

Erik sat back and gave her an indulgent smile, the pinched corners of his eyes easing with her levity. And most importantly, the cord tassel on the blinds fell back against the sill with a soft clack.

“But seriously Erik, this isn’t working.” She hated to ruin the mood, she really did.

Erik looked out the window at the trees and stone buildings of the university, sounding morose, “I know.”

She took a step closer, laying a hand on his shoulder. She thought better of it a moment later and started bullying her way onto his lap, only relenting when he wrapped his arms around her. But he still wouldn’t look at her, and she mumbled up into his ear, “What happened Erik?”

He took a deep breath then, chest expanding, and for a fleeting moment she thought he might actually tell her what was going on without having to fight him for every word, but such was not her luck. “I’ll go to Willard Park with you. I’ll practice more, get the hang of it again.”

She pulled her head back enough to see his face, “In exchange for me not asking what happened?”

He met her eyes with a look that said quite simply, ‘Precisely.’

~*~

The park was bright and cool the next afternoon, and the area that had been used for the party two nights ago was populated with no more than birdsong. Actually it was almost desolate. And he walked beside Raven with relative ease. A gusty breeze whirled by and he folded his leather jacket around him in a more snug fashion. He always got cold so easy, the knit turtleneck tucked warmly under his chin helped, but not overmuch.

He stopped once he felt the vibration of the metal object near his feet, but refused to make the irritating beeping noise that Raven had practically pleaded for.

Raven stopped a step later, looking down at the grass that was long enough to cover the tops of their shoes, “Found something?”

He nodded, “Something small, coin I think.” And he bet to pick it up, but Raven’s hand stopped him. “Don’t use your hands.”

He was set to protest until the blond shape shifter turned a pointed look his way. He made a promise, much as he hated it, and he’d rather lift a few abandoned coins out of the mud than tell his sister what he might be really capable of. He needed her to believe in him more than he cared to admit.

With a deep calming breath, he felt for the magnetic field surrounding the coin. At the moment, gravity was a stronger force than the pull of either pole, so he made his own pole to bring the coin to him. Holding his hand out and began pulling latent energy to him; the movement of the wind, warmth of the sun, and his own internal reserves. And then spinning all that energy until it was dense, circling it, making it rotate until it had enough pull to resonate with the metallic alloys in the coin, creating magnetic pull. Or at least that’s what he’d read in a journal once, on how magnetic fields were created.

Really, all he did was ‘want’ the coin, chain, or whatever and it would come to him; the whole magnetic field creation thing a non issue. It was kind of like walking though, he’d had to learn how hard to ‘want’ something. The harder he thought about it the faster it moved and the stronger the pull.

And he was out of practice. The coin rocketed out of the ground and into his palm with a smack.

Wincing, Erik reflexively shook his hand, the coin still stuck to the center of his palm. He looked over at Raven, whose face was remarkably bland. He’d had a difficult time, as a child, moving or lifting things; and anything larger than a toaster was almost impossible. Lifting a coin, that easily, had never happened until recently.

“Someone put on a growth spurt.” Raven only smiled as Erik glared at her. “Come on, let’s find another and try again.” She walked on, and Erik had no real choice but to follow.

The rest of the morning followed in the same way, until both of Erik’s hands were smarting from coins flying at high speeds. But as Erik used his power more he felt that he was gaining a degree of control over his expanded strength, and it was keeping him warm in the morning breeze.

“$5.13 in assorted coins, two unmatched earrings, and a fairly ugly ring, not a bad collection Erik.”

Shaking his head, Erik walked away from Raven, determined now more than ever to get his power under control so that he could go back to his life. They’d spent hours lifting objects from the ground, making them levitate in mid air, and after a heated discussion, sending those objects midair to Raven. Erik didn’t like how fast things were moving with how little effort he was putting into making them fly.

He stopped, looking at something white partially hidden in the grass. There wasn’t much metal, but it resonated like a hum in his head, and he lifted it off the ground. The string of white round beads floated in the air and swam snakelike into his palm. The string lifted again, and he sent it halfway across the field to Raven.

She squealed when they landed in her hands, “Pearls! I am _so_ keeping these!”

“They’re going to lost and found Raven.” He said sternly.

There was an odd displacement of air, a sound like a fist hitting flesh, and the smell of brimstone behind him and Erik turned. Were only moments ago there was nothing but grass and leaves, now stood a brown haired man in a tailored suit. “Good Afternoon Professor Lehnsherr, my name is Janos Quested and I am an associate of Sebastian Shaw. And Mr. Shaw would like to make you an offer.”

Raven screamed behind him and Erik spun back around watching as another man, red as Raven was blue, wrap a rope around her neck. She lost her form in her panic, bleeding from blond co-ed to a mutant blue as a sapphire with hair bright red as the man behind her.

Eric turned to face Janos once again, snarl in place. The man only shook his head meeting Erik glare for glare, “One I seriously believe you should listen to.”


	3. Chapter 3

The early morning air was warm and muggy as Charles strolled down the boardwalk. He eyed the large yacht, Caspartina, his mind probing inside cautiously. The fingertip brush of his mind touched every other human up and down the water front lingering for thoughts and knowledge of Shaw. He felt the tingle as his probing brushed against the mind of another.

Minds of people were ridged to Charles. Memories in one area, pain centers in another, thoughts printed in strips like from a typewriter. But this one was…fluid and he would have been intrigued if it hadn’t seem to sense him and try and reach out.

Surprised he pulled back, locking himself inside his mind and blocking any thoughts from coming in. This was…unanticipated. With a staggering step back, turning away from the port and back toward the city, Charles blinked in confusion. That…hadn’t...happened before. Ever. It was an odd feeling, and if he was a little truthful, frightening. He’d never met another that could reach out like that. It was confusing and unexpected.

And Charles didn’t like unexpected.

So it did seem a strategic withdraw was in order.

Charles had to force himself away, tearing his gaze from the ship and wrench himself around. Bloody Hell, he was so close! Only meters away and he had to wait. But he couldn’t just go in there unprepared; he wasn’t some Juggernaut, indestructible. Years of torment under Shaw, while living for three years in work, concentration and then death camps forced on Charles the truth and limits of his own morality. And really there wasn’t much joy in killing the bastard if he couldn’t gloat over the cooling body.

~*~

Charles lounged in the outdoor seating of a local café, seemingly people watching and drinking watered down tea. It was rather reprehensible tea actually, more sugar than flavor, and cold to boot. Which of course only added to his increasingly annoying morning.

The café was far enough from the waterfront that he felt comfortable opening the tight shielding he’d placed on his mind. It was like stretching, and it felt glorious. His mind wasn’t meant to be cooped up behind bone, and to force himself to do so was like binding a limb.

Normal minds were supposed to be static, thoughts and wishes bound up behind walls that only he could breach. And he quite liked being the only plundering Celt. But the thought that there could be someone else out there, with a mind so unbound was, truthfully, exciting.

The idea of another, just like him a telepath, was inconceivable before touching that mind. With child-like excitement, he wanted to meet them. It didn’t matter that they were close to Shaw- wait scratch that, it did matter, but for curiosity sake he could overlook it for a moment. He’d kill Shaw first, and then they might talk…

…unless Shaw had them brainwashed like he’d had Charles. And briefly Charles wondered if he was strong enough to force them to the side while he finished Shaw if that was the case. But really he didn’t want to divide his focus that way. This was not like the three stupid Germans of a few days ago, this was Shaw. The man who perverted his childhood sense of self until all that was left was a tool, a rage of mental torment to be released on command.

Forgetting sanity for a moment, Charles took another sip of the tea he had to hand and almost choked. No amount of lemon would make this better. He sent a mental command to the waitress to just bring him a water and take away the hummingbird food. She stopped the order she was taking at another table, mid-word, and walked to the back. And after perusing the menu in her mind he added a cornbread muffin to his order. Hopefully his definition of ‘not sweet’ and hers coincided.

After she had placed his request in front of him and returned to the other table like she’d never left; Charles had a thought, what if this unknown could block him? Shaw knew what he could do, not all of the new tricks he’d learned, but Shaw knew most of what he was capable of.

Obviously some reconnaissance was required.

Leaving the half-eaten muffin, Charles strode away from the café, heading back in the direction of the boardwalk. He ended up spending most of the morning flitting from mind to mind absorbing what he could of the knowledge the locals had on the Caspartina. Which was to say: Not Much. It was oddly settling to know that Shaw was still the elitist paranoid maniac he remembered.

He walked leisurely, his mind spiraling out from the eye of his mental storm. There was no human crew on the ship, at least none that he could feel.  And right now he didn’t dare probing further. There was a fair plan brewing in his not inconsiderable mind, but it would require the full use of every unhampered asset he could use to aid him. For the second time that day Charles eased away from the target he’d been hunting for years and back towards town.

He knew nothing about the layout of that ship; that was the first bit of intelligence he needed.  Then real food and rest, he would need to be at his peak to take on Shaw and some unknown. In the face of the very real possibility that Charles might achieve the dream he’d fostered for over half his life, he would take as few chances as he could foresee.

~*~

The dusk and a thin fog were settling in the bay when Charles approached the Caspartina for the third time that day. The ship was large enough that it didn’t bob in the small waves of the bay, and unlike before the deck was not deserted but lit brightly with a mixture of light below decks and a metal fire pit. Charles paused  in the shadow of a building, wondering if boarding from the water would actually be the better plan. But he always looked like a drowned rat when he got wet, and really what was threatening about that? So instead he strolled up the lowered plank like he belonged there, looking as relaxed and natural as he could force excited and jumpy muscles to be. Once rightfully on board, Charles stayed as close to the wall and the shadows, allowing his charcoal clothing and the dim light to hide him without taxing his mind.

Choking on gleeful laughter Charles surveyed the well lit deck were Shaw sat in seeming ease. Next to him lounged a lean slinky doll of a woman; the perfect picture of Aryan beauty adorned head to toe in white. It made her look quite washed out really, and didn’t she know Labor Day was two weeks ago? On the Doctor’s other side was a shaggy-haired young man, also decked out in pale colors, that had the same eager violent hunger on his face that Charles himself had sported while under Shaw’s ‘gentle’ attentions.

And looking completely out of place in the picture was a tall whip wire of a man vibrating and emoting enough rage that Charles didn’t even need his rather substantial gift to know that he was just slightly more than merely pissed off. There was a confrontation brewing and Charles would give up his telepathy, after Shaw was dead of course, to know what  one or two of these people were thinking right then. But he didn’t know which one of those seated beside Shaw was the telepath like him, and this close he didn’t want to give up his tenuous advantage.

“I want to see Raven.”

Startled out of his murderous contemplation Charles looked at the angry cat, though the best view he had was of the back of tight broad shoulders.

“Now Professor, you will get to see your lovely lady soon enough, after you help me with that little request.” Shaw’s voice was the oily sugar that Charles remembered and his stomach rolled.

“Do you know what this ship is made of Shaw? Do you know what I could do to this tugboat when I’m-“ and those tight shoulders tensed more, hands fisting, “-This-” the man hissed, like steam, “-Angry?”

The deck then began to shudder below him. The metal groaned a fairly high grating sound, and fine vibration trembled underneath his feet. Just as quickly as it had started, it was over and Shaw was grinning without an ounce of fear. Glancing over at the woman to his side, he nodded. Her smile was as cold as the rest of her persona.

In the next breath Charles view was blocked by a puff of smoke and a … _red_ _tail?_ Another man stood in front of him and he hadn’t been there a moment ago. Forcing down exhilaration, eagerness and curiosity he tried to focus on only what he was here for and not give himself away with little flares of excited giggles that were bubbling in his throat.

The thing with a tail set a body down on the deck, and as he turned Charles could see his face and hands were red too. The body he lay on the deck was slight, feminine and bright blue.

Curiosity was starting to outrun self preservation by a fairly large margin.

“Raven!”

Shaw watched the other man crouched and gathered the prone figure to him with a patronizing smile. “We’ve put her to sleep Professor, and she will stay that way until you do what we have asked of you.”

The deck began to shake under Charles’ feet again, and he was beginning to think that he’d been woolgathering too long. He finally un-tethered his mind, loving the expansion of thought and the whispers of the other minds around him. He missed how the Aryan beauty twitched as he focused on taking out the first obstacle in his way. The red-faced man dropped to the deck with a strangled Russian curse as Charles pressed on the pain center of his brain as hard as he was able, forcing his will on the other man until he passed out.

Shaw and the other two were on their feet when Charles strode casually into the light, hands in his pockets and with a little swagger, “Guten Abend, Herr Doktor.” He stepped casually enough over the fallen form and closer, ever closer to Shaw. His heart was fluttering under his ribcage,  not from fear but from the intense excitement.

There was genuine surprise in Shaw’s face, and after a beat, pleasure. “Little Charles, have you come back to me my boy?”

Charles’ smile turned sour just as the blond woman said to Shaw, “He’s here to kill you.” He could feel her mind brushing up against his, and it carried the same tone as earlier this morning.

So at least Shaw didn’t have more than one telepath. She focused more, Charles could see it in her face, and she was digging through his memories, looking for the most painful the most sensitive. He could feel her in his head like someone was dragging a poker along his brain, Charles had always liked to think he was less noticeable than that. But before she could get too far Charles trapped her mind with his own. Grabbed her in his mental hand and twisted. Faced with her, another telepath like him, Charles was quickly losing his interest in a mutual discussion of their power.

She fell to her knees on the deck, while Charles did little more that press is right index finger to his temple. He kept twisting as much as he was able, and she was starting to make little whimpering noises, but she had stopped struggling against his hold and was searching for something else inside herself. Charles didn’t know what she was reaching for until her mind flicked off like a switch and her body crystallized before his eyes.

“Hmm, nice trick.” Charles was capable of giving props where they were due after all.

But as soon as she crystallized, skin sparkling in the fire light, something cracked and the shine shed from her skin in a trail of dust while she fell face first onto the deck.

Charles turned to Shaw his grin impish and evil, just waiting for a comment; because even now in his twisted way, Charles was still looking for Shaw’s approval.

But Shaw just shook his head almost sadly, and in that moment Charles realized something very important, that the shaggy hair whipping boy wasn’t beside Shaw any more.

Charles flung a bullet of killing intent at Shaw as pain exploded in the back of his head, and blackness crept over his vision.


	4. Chapter 4

Erik wasn’t quite sure what in hell was going on.

First it was Raven comatose on the deck, and all he could think of was filling his arms with her limp blue form. Once she was in his arms he could twist this tin tugboat into a lump on the bay floor.  But before he could gather the full concentration necessary another man stepped out of the shadows. He had all the swagger of Shaw, a man confident in his power over others. A dangerous man with captivating blue eyes.

It was obvious that Shaw’s focus shifted off him and on to this newcomer. A lovely distraction, now if he could use and not squander it. On his knees, arms full of his only family, he shifted closer to the prow. The battle was quick, with Shaw’s woman face down on the deck, blood trickling from her nose.

With another shift back, Erik pressed up against the hollow metal railing. He cursed himself for being too slow as Janus clubbed the blue eyed man over the back of the head. He watched the body fall to the deck and his gut twisted unexpectedly. He didn’t even know this man, why was he giving a damn?

Shaw crumpled to  his knees in the same instant but got up again before Erik could summon the energy to smile. With a leering grin Shaw shook his head at Janos, “A little faster next time, he would have killed me if his focus hadn’t broken.”

Shaw’s hawk eyes then focused on him, “Now Professor, where were we?”

He was facing the flood lights when they flicked on, and Erik winced blinking away the spots. The Coast Guard called their warning over a megaphone and Erik was determined not to squander God’s  gift a second time and escape now that he had the chance.

As gently as possible he rolled Raven over his shoulder balancing her weight with an arm over her thighs, standing slowly with the help of the railing behind him. He glanced back over to Shaw, just to be certain that his attention was no longer pinning him to the deck. Erik turned, heading for the gangplank, knowing that he couldn’t keep himself and Raven afloat should he just pitch himself over the side.

His flight was momentarily hindered when he almost tripped over the prone leg of the blue-eyed man. His first impulse was to just step around and leave him lie there. But his hand reached out, grabbing the yoke of the man’s jacket, hefting him along. The man’s shoes drug the decking, sounding for all the world like a bell on a cat’s collar and Erik was cursing himself the fool for even grabbing hold in the first place. But evidently the Coast Guard was keeping Shaw busy enough.

It was only ten or so feet to the ramp and Erik was panting like he’d run a marathon.  Sweat pooled in the dip of his lower back, and his shoulders were on fire  as he forced his legs closer to the ramp and freedom.

The wind picked up suddenly as he fumbled down the incline to the dock, and the spray of water felt cool on his flushed face. He could hear sirens and the surprised cries of men, the groan of the waking man in his hand and Shaw’s laughter.  Pausing he looked over his shoulder watching as a miniature cyclone tossed a boatload of men in the air.

An angry snarl curled his lip and Erik dropped the man, face down, to the dock and stretched his arm out to the railing on the deck. His rage curled fierce in his gut giving him more power. He pressed on the railing, intending only to send some of the hollow metal railing flying in the air to sweep Shaw into the water, but the entire prow of the boat dented in with a scream of protesting metal and the Caspartina rocked in the water like she had been pushed to the side. The boat pitched back upright and bobbed in the water, making waves that licked the edge of the dock.

Grabbing the man’s jacket again he struggled the next dozen feet to the cement street. Erik was panting now, struggling under the combined weight of Raven and his other burden.  He paused, wheezing, as his eyes raked the street. A car parked along the sidewalk was a welcome sight as he pitched himself toward it. Setting the man down again, the back door of the vehicle didn’t stand a chance as Erik forced the lock up and opened the door.

Erik blocked the process of getting everyone into the vehicle from his mind. He may have dropped his rapidly becoming bad decision on his face again, and Raven’s head might have had an intimate meeting with the roof of the vehicle, but Erik though he was doing pretty damn good personally.

He was about a mile down the road before the reality of what just happened hit him with the brunt force of shock. Not the meeting with people who had stranger abilities than both he and Raven put together, not the shock of being kidnapped, not the fact that he’d just picked up some random stranger and drug them along for the ride. No, all that Erik could cope with.

What made him spill forth a string of creative curse words was the realization that he’d just stolen a fucking car!

~*~

Erik didn’t even leave Miami, he just found the nearest decent looking motel and booked a room for the night.

Two twin beds, and a vaguely musty air, it was pitiful. But it was in the back, and there was no light over the parking lot. Erik was sure that if anyone saw him drag two comatose people out of a stolen car, well…He just couldn’t deal with a well-meaning  police force at this moment.

The man he trussed up, hands above his head and affixed to the headboard, of one bed with the help of his belt, and Raven he placed gently on the other. Erik then spent the next ten minutes trying everything he could think of, from shaking, to tickling, to water, to wake Raven, but her eyes refused to open.  Sitting on the edge of her bed he buried his head in hands.

He’d done this. Shaw wouldn’t have even known what he could do he if hadn’t made a spectacle of himself. He pulled at his hair a bit, the pain a partial penance. Now Raven was in some sort of induced coma and he didn’t know how, or if, he could rouse her out of it.

The opposite bed groaned, and Erik looked up as those startling eyes blinked open. The other mans’ brows furled in confusion briefly before smoothing out and surveying the room. He twisted his wrists, testing the strength of the belt that held them. Erik just sat there for a moment, watching him. The curve of his throat as he turned his head, the quirk of his lips and the weary creases at the corners of his eyes.

“Kinky Erik. Normally I like to be wooed first, but for you I think I’ll manage.” The voice was light with a hint of British accent and Erik was just too weary to play the civility game and so just stared in silence.

“Charles Xavier, pleasure.”

All Erik wanted to do was sleep, his shoulders, back and thighs throbbed with that twinge that would turn into a tight ache of sore muscles the next morning. His non committal grunt was a sterling reply in his mind.

“Charmed. Now be a good boy and release me.”

Erik was on his feet before the comment registered, and he paused in annoyance at the ‘good boy’ remark and that he’d even stood up to begin with. He didn’t want to let the man go, did he?

“Now Erik.”

He moved forward again his mind reeling as his body leaned to unbuckle the belt. The familiar hum of the metal against his skin helped him break away. Taking several steps back Erik glared at the prone form, “What are you doing?”

Charles face was the picture of bafflement and a slight bit of pleasure, “You have a strong will. I wonder how hard I’d have to push you.”

“Try that again and I’ll knock you out.” Erik said heatedly.

“Oh you would have me concussed? You already dropped me on my face what, twice?” Erik’s cheeks warmed at the reminder, he’d never intended to drop the man at the pier, and getting into the car would have been difficult even if he hadn’t just lugged two unconscious bodies off that boat.

 _:And besides, what good to your charming little lady would I be unconscious?:_

Erik had been, embarrassingly enough, watching Charles’ lips not move while the voice spoke in his head. “You’re in my head,” Charles smiled up at him and nodded, “How are you doing that?”

“You have your tricks, I have mine.”

Erik stepped back, thighs pressing into the dresser, fighting between hope and distrust, “You can wake Raven?” he asked cautiously, fully aware that this man might just be saying what he wanted to hear.

“I should be able to, if it was that little Aryan faux pas that locked her in there.”

Erik stared into Charles’ eyes gauging how far to trust this man. He didn’t know anything about him, but he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t  just help Raven for nothing.

 _:Very astute.:_ Erik jerked at the voice, the silky words almost stroking along his skin, _:No, I truthfully would like to get up. Nature has some fierce demands.:_ Erik kept staring, knowing through pure intuition that this was not the only reason. Charles’ pert lips twisted _, :Maybe I like the thought of you owing me one.:_

Erik’s eyes narrowed and Charles sighed long and loud, “So I’m curious. I’ve never met someone like me; different.” And Charles broke eye contact, looking away with a slight bit of color blooming on his pale cheek, “I thought I was alone.”

Nothing sounded like the whole truth, but all three together sounded at least passable. Gritting his teeth Erik quickly untied the man. Charles massaged his wrists and walked toward the small ensuite bathroom. “Let me take care of this, would you turn her the other direction on the bed please? I need to get to both her temples.”

While Charles was in the bathroom Erik adjusted Raven on the bed, her legs hung off the side but he got her turned around. Erik was trying to remember if there was any windows in the bathroom he should be worried about when Charles walked back out, drying his hands on a towel.

His smile was more along the lines of a grimace, “No windows in there my friend.”

He walked around the bed to stand by Ravens’ head, dropping the towel and kneeling on it. Erik watched in apprehension as Charles placed his hands on either side of her temple and leaned down until their foreheads touched. Then the room was quiet.

Too quiet. It was like even the crickets waited to see what would happen. But then Erik blinked and he could hear the rattle of the pipes, the song of the insects and some couple having a shouting match a ways outside. But for a pulse in time it seemed like everything went still, and Erik shivered in memory of it.

Charles lips were moving, mumbling quiet words and Erik couldn’t help but shift closer. Erik watched as the words became frenzied and his body tightened with tension. Then Charles looked up. Erik followed his gaze, to the blank hotel wall, and back. He was staring off into nothing, “Char-“

 “Locked away in a crystal box.”Charles said, eyes unfocused. “Shh, delicate work now, need to concentrate.”

Erik reluctantly waited and watched. Charles stayed like that, on his knees and immobile for almost twenty minutes before he blinked and Erik could see life return to the blue eyes. Below him Raven groaned blinking open her own amber orbs. With a happy cry Erik sat at her side, helping her to sit up while Charles leaned back on his heels.

“If she needs to sleep let her, she won’t go into a coma again. And a forced coma isn’t sleep so she’ll probably be tired soon. I’m going for a walk.”

Erik watched Charles stand and leave the room without another word, and the desire to call him back was strong. But he held himself in check as Charles closed the flimsy motel door.


	5. Chapter 5

Charles closed the door sedately, and leaned up against the siding next to it. It was a rather disgusting hovel that Erik had found for them. It smelled of stale humid air and urine, which so wasn’t helping the nausea clogging the back of his throat. Throwing up in the bathroom earlier hadn’t helped; and forcing himself to try and wake the little blue shifter without rest was giving him a reaction headache. He’d pushed it too far.

He needed food, crackers or toast. But knowing he needed it didn’t combat the wave of nausea that bubbled up at the thought. It was at least slightly cooler outside, and a breeze chilled the sweat on his forehead. He breathed in slowly and deeply through his mouth and forced past the black spots that blinked at the edges of his vision.

The door opened beside him and Charles caught himself feeling relieved when Erik stepped out. Sharp grey eyes zeroed in on his slouched form and said nothing. Erik closed the door softly, still watching, still silent. Nerves frayed, Charles couldn’t take much silence so he gently tapped into Erik’s mind; _smells out here/god he looks horrible/tired/hungry/tired/afraid he might run off/why care/food-clean-sleep._ With the taste of Erik’s decision in his mind he pulled back to a fresh wave of nausea and a lancing pain behind his eyes. Swallowing the rising bile Charles sucked in another breath through his teeth.

“Short walk.”

When Charles didn’t respond, eyes resolutely closed, Erik evidently took pity on him, because Charles could feel the warm arm around his ribs as the taller man pulled him back inside. “Raven’s asleep like you said she would be, so you should be able to rest.”

There was no use in lying, in denying that he was fine when he was obviously anything but as the room swam before his eyes and he clutched at Erik’s violet turtleneck. Charles stumbled into the room with the level of command of his own limbs reminiscent of a drunkard. Erik was kind enough to help him down to the bed in a gentle manner, and Charles eased back onto the musty scented blanket with a low groan.

He met Erik’s pale eyes for a moment before his inner mother prodded a quite word of thanks out of him. The taller man just watched him silently and Charles wanted so badly to dip back into that well ordered mind again but he knew that he’d already pushed himself too far.

“I don’t trust you.”

Erik’s voice was sharp and direct, much like the man, and Charles lips pulled up in the corners, “Wise.” And Charles felt his lids lower, and his consciousness wander. A moment later he was asleep with his shoes on and on top of the blankets.

~*~

Charles woke with the false dawn the next morning, and he got an eyeful of Erik curled protectively around Raven. If he hadn’t spent a good quarter of an hour in the woman’s mind, he might have fallen under the assumption that they were lovers. Especially after the stalwart way Erik protected her.

With the gentle ebbing of darkness, and silence of early morning Charles allowed himself a brief moment of wallow in loneliness. The lapis shifter didn’t know how truly blessed she was to have a person so devoted to her care and safety that he would bend to men like Shaw to secure it.

His own parents didn’t have that level of devotion for their own offspring. As budding actors, a child would hinder their rounds of parties, patrons and performances, so he’d been traded to a Gypsy troupe as an infant.

Through all the fabled faults of the Gypsy people, their one strong virtue was their devotion to family. Devotion that was emulated in Erik. Devotion that Charles had never been privy to because he, even though he grew up alongside them, was an outsider. Not blood family.

Simmering in morose thoughts, Charles rolled of the bed and headed to the bathroom. With the lethargy of a light sleeper, Erik began to stir, and Charles sent a soft command to sleep on.

His hand grabbed the grubby wall, fingers scrabbling for purchase, as the backlash of that little expression of his power cost him. Pain lanced lighting bright through his vision and across his temple. Not good. That little duel with Shaw’s telepath had taken more out of him than he’d expected. Breath in soft quick pants, Charles fumbled his way fully into the bathroom, turning the tap he splashed cool water on his face.

These reaction headaches were at least familiar, another reminder of his captivity under Shaw.  The sadist had demanded that Charles push himself past his limits, sometimes to the point that these reaction headaches physically made him ill for days at a time. Charles did learn to figure out at what point he could push to, far enough to get a migraine but not physically ill. Being ill in a concentration camp was never wise.

He started the shower, turning it all the way cold. He shoved his skull under the hard frigid spray; the temperature making his teeth chatter and his body shake. But the pounding water was numbing his head, and the lethargic sensation traveled down his shoulders and giving him blessed peace.

Getting dressed while spasming was…interesting but not impossible. Pulling on soiled clothes made him expressly long for his case.

Stepping out of the bathroom Charles surveyed the bed and its occupants again. They should sleep late enough, he hoped anyway. Temple still throbbing Charles picked up the keys from where Erik had dropped them the previous evening and left the room, took the car and went for a drive.

~*~

Freshly dressed, with a warm shower in a clean bathroom behind him, Charles felt mildly civil again. In a good enough mood to even stop at the early hour bakery and purchase some breakfast for himself, Erik and Raven.

He kept his trip away from the pair brief. He figured that Shaw’s little telepath had overtaxed herself, just as he had. More so maybe. She hadn’t been as strong as Charles was, he would have won their mental tug of war had she not blocked him with that little crystallization of hers. But if she had not, if she had a better rebound time than he, Charles did not want to be far from the metal manipulator. Because that was the true reason he helped Erik with Raven, Charles needed a reason to stay close to his side at all times.

He did not want to leave Erik’s side. Shaw wanted that man, Charles hadn’t yet figured out quite what for, but he had purposely sought out the professor once, and he would do so again. And Charles would be there when Shaw came for him.

Whistling the crescendo of Gustav Holst’s Neptune movement, Charles used the toe of his shoe to tap at the door of the motel room, his hands full of pastry and three coffees. The door opened to the very awake face of Erik Lensherr.

Charles lifted his hands proffering the food to the sharp steely gaze of the genetics professor. “I thought you’d left.” The man said, opening the door further.

“I went to get my things,” Charles said in response, setting his burdens down on the tiny table. Raven sat in the center of the bed, blond and blue-eyed, coat dark around her chin, looking down on him suspiciously, like a queen. “Pity,” Charles said looking her over, “I prefer you in jewel tones.”

Fishing in the bag he retrieved a paper wrapped pastry and handed it to Raven, “Stawberry Danish for the lady.”

Smirking at her astonished face he went back to his bag pulling out a larger paper wrapped sweet, “Apple Fritter for Mr. Picky.” Charles proffered the fried batter with an unrepentant grin and pulled out his raisin bagel. He sat in one of the wobbly chairs, pulling a coffee to his elbow and tearing the bread into bite-sized pieces.

Erik sat by Raven, notably on the other side of the room from Charles.

Charles had been raised in a boisterous society, and the silence did not set well on his nerves. It was something he could not leave alone, “What now Professor?”

“You seem to think you’re coming with us.” Raven said, her tone icy and biting.

Charles was mid chew and so only lifted an eyebrow and quirked his lips in amusement while he swallowed. Once that was done he tried to temper his sarcasm when he replied, “Because I’m sure you’ll be able to get all the way back to New York with the $5.13 in your pocket. You are in Florida dear, in case your friend hadn’t told you.”

Well he tried anyway.

“We’ll find a way.” Erik said in a low voice, breakfast untouched on his lap.

Charles eyed the uneaten food, and a small bit of him was disappointed that his offering wasn’t being accepted. It was very caveman of him, but he couldn’t quite help it. “I’m quite sure you could. But wouldn’t it just be that much easier to just let me help?”

Erik’s flint bright eyes narrowed, “So we can be in debt to you further?’

Charles smiled behind his coffee cup, “I’m quite sure you’d pay be back once you were home.”

“And where is your home?” Raven asked taking small bites of her Danish.

Quite the loaded question, and Charles broke eye contact. He looked into the heavily herbed coffee, watching the slow spin of a thyme leaf on the surface. The herbs were to help with the headache, the coffee was complete beard for the situation.

Where was his home really? Not the too fleeting time with his parents, nor the gentle segregation of the Gypsies, after the war he’d spent some time in a derelict orphanage, and then he’d been hunting Shaw. Charles guessed he could say then, he didn’t have one.

“Where I make it.”

Erik, oddly, eased at that, and began tearing apart the fritter.

Something tight in the back of his throat eased at that.

~*~

“No Erik, I did not use mind tricks to get us into business class. It’s the blue eyes. Ladies love them.”

~*~

Charles pulled his bag out of the boot of the taxi before turning to look at Erik’s childhood home, and blinked. The stone walls and gothic spires gave the impression that there should be guards at the doors in red coats and tall black hats.

Charles strode next to Erik, surveying the monstrosity and couldn’t help but commenting, “Modest.”

Erik did not look impressed.

They were standing companionably close, arms almost brushing. Raven wormed her was in between them and the action sent an unreasonable fissure of anger up Charles spine.

“Now for the tour.” Raven said with false cheer.

Girding himself, Charles dived into Erik’s head once again. It was easy to find everything he needed in this mind, the man was very studious and organized in all aspects of his life. It was soothing, but he removed himself promptly. There would be time for wallowing when his head hurt less.

Wincing as the migraine roared back to life Charles said shortly, “ Ah, no needs, thanks. I’ll just take the blue plaid room on the west end, third floor.”

As Charles walked toward the front door he caught a bit of the conversation between Raven and Erik.

 “Wait isn’t that-“ Raven sounded confused, and Charles took a small bit of perverse pleasure in that.

Erik on the other hand, was amused, ”My room, yes.”

“Oh Erik, how do you know he’s any better than Shaw?”

“Because he brought you back to me.”

Charles smiled as he walked into the shadow of his new, if temporary, home.

**Author's Note:**

> My German is book learned in bits and osmosis though family...so kinda crappy. Please inform me of any typos and grammer mistakes.


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